


may these matches bring you joy

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Typical Everything, Developing Friendships, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Minor Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Psychological Trauma, Sweeney Todd References, referenced murder & cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Bedelia invites Alana to a Baltimore theater.
Relationships: Alana Bloom & Bedelia Du Maurier
Kudos: 12
Collections: Ladies Bingo 2019, Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	may these matches bring you joy

**Author's Note:**

> **ladies bingo:** the theatre  
>  **trope bingo:** unexpected friendship
> 
> enjoy!

Everyone knows what happened when Bedelia comes back from her place with a shiny prosthetic replacing her right leg and fine scars along her arms, but no one asks her. As far as Alana is aware, the only thing Jack Crawford said was an apology. No threat of arresting her for the murder of her patient or for being an accomplice to Hannibal's crimes— nothing. He didn't say a thing. 

As far as Alana is aware, Bedelia Du Maurier was drugged and made to eat her own leg before she put up a fight, thus gaining her those scars. She wants to bother her about it, ask her if it was just Hannibal or if he was with Will, if Will seemed scared or happy or excited. She's still trying to rationalize her way out of the obvious answer about what happened and is happening between Hannibal and Will. She's still in denial, the first phase of grief, stuck in it indefinitely.

She's surprised when Bedelia invites her to see something at a Baltimore theater. She's back in the States for a few weeks before she goes back into hiding with her wife and son, and she doesn't expect for her to go and invite her out for a night out. But she accepts, of course, as it's the polite thing to do. Whenever she thinks about politeness she can hear Hannibal's voice in her head, purring deep, like he's leading her into his own footsteps. She knows that's not what's happening, but she can't help but worry.

The musical in question is Sweeney Todd. She doesn't know how she didn't expect this, but she sits through it and tries not to sigh at Bedelia's small smile, at the way she can see the metallic sheen on her leg with the dim lights of the theater.

"I assume your leg was your own personal Sweeney Todd's pie," Alana says as they get out of the theater, her hands clammy against her dress pants.

"Yes," Bedelia drawls out. "I had two barbers. Although I could call one of them Mrs. Lovett."

"Will," she states plainly.

"Yes."

"What did he act like? Was he excited? Scared? Terrified? Trying to help y—"

"He kissed Hannibal," Bedelia shuts her down. "Called him _my love_. Hannibal looked rather uncomfortable by that public display of affection, even if it was just in front of me."

Alana hates the fact all her suspicions and greatest fears are confirmed. She sucks in a breath. "I see. And then they— they let you go? Just like that? After you fought?"

"Dosed me again," Bedelia replies, leading Alana into a bar a few blocks away from the theater. She enters. "When I came to my senses, they weren't there anymore. I called an ambulance and told them I had my leg cut off."

Alana sits down next to the bar and asks for a beer while Bedelia asks for some whiskey. She immediately takes a long sip from the glass.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Bedelia," she says.

She shrugs. "I'll get used to it." She pauses. "How's your wife? Your son?"

"They're both well," she replies. "Somewhere in Europe."

"Not telling me where?" Bedelia asks, giving her a wry smile as she downs some of her whiskey. "I am not in any sort of connection with Hannibal Lecter, Dr. Bloom. I won't rat you out so he can go there and kill your family."

"I'm not taking any chances," she says, looking down. "You knew Hannibal for so long. I knew him for half of what you did, and yet he seems to haunt my every step."

"Politeness equals murder equals flesh," Bedelia says, taking another sip of whiskey.

She swallows. "Yes," she nods. "I almost want to shed any politeness left in me, just to be nothing like him."

"It's impossible to not be anything like him, Alana," Bedelia says. "His actions and his personality imprinted on all the ones who spent a lot of time with him. His fascination with violence, his obsession with politeness, his quirks and tics and neuroses… they all carry on all of us in different ways."

Alana can't dispute that. 

She hates to admit it, but Bedelia is the only person she's talked about this with who _understands_ , perhaps because she, too, was in close quarters with Hannibal. Although, as much as she might've pretended to be his wife, she's not aware of just how close those quarters were (if they were as close as Alana's own).

"You're right," she says. She pauses. "I didn't expect this, but I enjoy your company. I might keep contact with you once I'm back in Europe." She gives her a teasing smile. "If you act innocent enough, I might even let you know what European country we're living in."

Bedelia smiles and clinks her glass with hers gently. "I'm glad to take on that challenge, Dr. Bloom."

She didn't expect to form a strange bond with Bedelia Du Maurier once she came back to Baltimore for a week or two, but she's certainly not complaining.


End file.
